


Blue

by Tinevisce



Series: V.I.B.G.Y.O.R [4]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinevisce/pseuds/Tinevisce
Summary: Aman is giving him that shy smile. The one that means he really wants something but can’t quite bring himself to say it because- because he’s an enormous idiot who thinks he doesn’t deserve everything good and beautiful the world has to offer.Kartik’s grin is so wide that his eyes crinkle with the force of itTechnically follows the events of Red, Indigo and Green although could be just read as a random slice-of-life scene in their lives if you squint really hard.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: V.I.B.G.Y.O.R [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686157
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> All right, normal "author-y" rules behoove me to slip in details like their jobs and accommodations into the narrative all nice and author-y like. I would, I really WOULD except this isn't a full length novel or novella but really just a collection of seven scenes- so I haven't been able to find a good spot in the narrative itself to talk about my head-canon for these boys in terms of the more practical aspects of their lives. 'Cause I don't know about you, but I don't think promoting toothpaste in a mall pays enough to be able to live in Delhi but also send home 10K bucks every month. (I'm not obsessed, you are!)
> 
> Therefore, in my head, Aman is a bio-statistical programmer at a small Clinical Research company in Delhi while Kartik is a copy-writer with an ad agency. That should give them enough to be able to rent a tiny studio apartment in Delhi. The mall thing could conceivably be something Kartik dragged them both into during the weekends. I can totally picture that being the case.
> 
> Like I said, YOU'RE the obsessed weirdo, not me. <3

BLUE

The thing about Aman that Kartik had come to realise over the course of their relationship was that he rarely, if ever, came out (ha!) and asked for things he wanted.

Those first few months: Aman’s reserve had been what had simultaneously infuriated Kartik (because how the hell was he supposed to just know what his boyfriend wanted; shit, was he _expected_ to know?) as well as the exact thing which had made him dive headlong into this heady whirlpool of love and discovery. The small, pleased smile when Kartik had done something sweet that Aman had not been expecting; the huge smile that broke out when Aman was just generally happy and had only now realised he had Kartik to share his joy with; that disappointed glower when he thought Kartik had something particularly stupid and the resigned eye-roll which came right after that said, _He’s an idiot, but he’s_ my _idiot so may as well sort this mess out_.

Kartik catalogued each expression in his ever-expanding treatise on Aman Tripathi. It would be the work of his lifetime, his magnum-opus. The thought of having an entire _life_ with this man made him feel a pleasure so deep it was almost pain.

It was so _different_ from how Kartik went through life; loud, obnoxious and unabashedly _gay_ in howsoever many ways one chose to define that word. He believed in loudly asking the world at large to give him the things he wanted; demanding them from it. So what if the first time you ask the world for a kiss, it gives you a punch to the face instead? You get up and ask for it again, keep on asking for it until the Universe just gives in and deposits the love of your life right into your arms.

If Kartik ever had a spirit animal, it would be a- “A cat,” Aman had told him over episodes of Brooklyn 99 to disabuse any notion of Kartik being a lion or a wolf, “a big, fat obnoxious cat that loudly yowls for food and attention at 4 AM in the morning, then twines around your legs so you trip and fall when you _do_ get up to get him whatever the heck he wants”

“Baby, do you _want_ me to twine around your legs when you come home from office?”

Aman’s eyes had glinted in a way that suggested either _Oh my God, I want to rip this man’s clothes off and do unmentionable things to him_ or _Oh my God, this man is a complete dork and I will get him an empty cardboard box for his birthday_. With Aman, it was never completely certain.

Therefore, Kartik set out to be just that: a loud, obnoxious cat demanding love and laughter; and if he was extra-loud and extra-persistent, it was only because he had to be demanding enough for both. Whether or not Aman ever actually asked out loud for the things he wanted, Kartik had vowed to make the deepest, unspoken desires of his boyfriend’s heart come true. _Tathaastu, Amen, Hallelujah,_ so it shall be: the Universe had bent to accommodate Kartik and it will fucking bend over and do the same thing for Aman as well. Kartik will make it happen.

Which is why he traipses the length and breadth of Delhi, dragging Aman along on dates. Oh, so many dates. Breakfast dates and lunch dates, bookshop dates and coffee dates and the-sky-is-so-beautiful-at-night-let’s-spend-it-in-an-abandoned-field-and-oh-shit-this-is-Delhi-is-that-a-murderer-RUN-Aman- _RUN_ dates. That last one, Kartik declared once they were safely back home, was an essential component of their workout regiment.

“ _Chutiya_ ,” Aman had ground out and then sulked for the rest of the weekend.

Barring spectacular failures like that though, Aman had never actually expressed any preference either way. Not that he played along or pretended to enjoy himself; it seemed he was just content to follow and be led to wherever Kartik wanted to go. And nope, _just content_ wasn’t good enough, that just wouldn’t do.

Kartik kept at it; if nothing else, he came by his tenacity honestly, and over painstaking days and weeks was rewarded by beginning to understand the things Aman liked, things that had given him joy before Kartik had entered his life.

Old places, second-hand books and textiles. Forts and palaces, obscure works of writers most people never knew about, _khaadi_ and silk and sequins.

The first time had been somewhere in Chandni Chowk; for the first time ever on these dates, Aman had broken away from Kartik and started to head down a dark, cramped alley full of shops peddling old books.

He paused and gave Kartik a shy smile over his shoulder that melted the man’s heart. _Will you come?_

_Always_

* * *

“Do you think they’ll let you take this Friday off?” Aman asked over dinner on Monday. It had been over two months since their eventful trip to Allahabad and life had settled into some semblance of tranquility for the two men.

If Aman sometimes seemed to resent Kartik for trying to be careful around him, or if both found it slightly harder to fall asleep at nights; neither of them brought it up.

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Kartik mentally reviewed his calendar for the week. “I think so,” he said, as he served himself more _paneer_ and accepted a _chapati_ from Aman because if _his_ spirit animal is a cat, Aman’s is a mother-hen, “All the projects I’m working on aren’t due for another fortnight, and it’s only a day. What did you have in mind?”

Aman is giving him that shy smile. The one that means he really wants something but can’t quite bring himself to say it because- because he’s an enormous idiot who thinks he doesn’t deserve everything good and beautiful the world has to offer.

Kartik’s grin is so wide that his eyes crinkle with the force of it; Aman ducks his head and focusses on the food on his plate.

“There’s this heritage hotel in Alwar I’ve wanted to go to _bohot saalon se._ Expensive _hai_ , but I have the bonus coming in next week and I thought-”

Kartik kicked Aman under the table to shut him up.

* * *

The room was bright and cheerful and cozy and somehow managed to straddle the line between sumptuous and rustic. The curtains and the upholstery were varying shades of turquoise, cerulean and peacock blue.

It had been a long, hot drive from Delhi and the heavy lunch they had ordered in using room service and the cold shower was making Kartik feel completely boneless.

They were lounging on the double bed, Kartik with his head in Aman’s lap as the latter gently massaged his scalp with one hand while tracing the intricate _kalamkari_ print of the bed-spread with the other.

It was quiet and hushed except for the sound of their breaths. The sun blazed outside, and the thick, blue curtains turned the room into a blue kaleidoscope. It was soothing and cool inside, Aman’s solid presence around him felt like the most decadent luxury.

He grabbed one of Aman’s hands with both of his own and settled it on his chest, against his heart. Closing his eyes, he let himself sink deeper into that delicious space between sleep and wakefulness. “Tell me a story!” he demanded on a whim

“Before the Universe was created, before the Big Bang, _Prakriti_ existed as pure potential: she was Time and Energy and Matter and Life all at once but wasn’t any of them too because none of those concepts existed yet. _Prajapati_ , the Creator desired Her and pursued her across the substance of the Uncreate. She took the form of a doe, and He a giant antlered deer. He chased and chased and chased, and finally caught up to Her. He mounted Her then, and from that violence, _Prakriti_ was fundamentally changed and the Universe came to be.

“But if _Prajapati_ desired _Prakriti_ , there was one who truly loved Her, for whom Her Violation was intolerable. The onset of His Anger was so terrible and fearsome that the other Gods were too afraid to even say His name.

“He was Rudra, the Roaring Storm and the Thunderbolt, the crimson Rage.”

Kartik had fallen into a deep sleep, mouth slightly open and face completely slack. His hands still tightly clutched Aman’s hand, holding it against his heart like a talisman.

Aman bent down to kiss Kartik’s nose and then arranged himself more comfortably on the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're in India, picture a nice, crisp winter morning when the skies are clear and the winter sun feels nice on your skin. You have no deadlines to meet, no exams to study for and nowhere urgent to be. You breathe in deeply and realise that you could spend the whole day trying to find shapes in the clouds and that's OK.
> 
> That's the kind of even-keeled tranquility I associate with "Blue" and what my internal prompt was while writing this.


End file.
